Palin
Sitting on the top step of the porch, he pulled off his boots.
“You’re sure?”
Sandy nodded and gestured for him to follow her. “Yeah. It’s normal. I’d rather have your smelly feet sticking up the place than track mud everywhere.”
He pouted. “My feet don’t stink.”
“We’ll see. Come on, let’s go inside.”
Palin didn’t move. “Pardon?”
“I’m hungry, and it’s chilly out. I don’t want to eat outside today, so come inside.”
“Right.” Acting like this was a completely normal thing to do, he followed her inside. She even held the door for him.
This was his third day of working for Sandy, and while it had been rather physical and demanding, he also found it rewarding. There was a certain sense of pride in seeing everything come together while you worked on it. He was beginning to understand why she was so invested in her work.
What he couldn’t figure out was what the hell had changed besides the weather to prompt such a turnaround in Sandy. The first two days she’d been distant. Cold. Rarely answering questions or talking. Never outright rude, but clearly shut off, unwilling to engage with him.
This morning when he’d shown up she’d said hello and asked how he was. That was his first clue that something was up. He’d brought a lunch his first day, not sure what to expect, but Sandy had insisted that she feed him. Apparently he was working even harder than she’d expected. That was fine with him; it wasn’t nearly as hard as he could handle, but Palin felt it best to keep his supernatural strength to himself for now. She hadn’t handled his first mention of being a dragon very well.
She’d fed him outside, however. Both for lunches and supper, a meal he’d never expected to stay for. Apparently Sandy kept longer working hours than anyone else he knew, but the dragon shifter was thankful for every morsel. Today he’d been prepared to sit outside and wait for her to bring him food again.
Yet here he was, not only being invited in, but ordered inside. Into her house. A place he’d barely even gotten a peek of. Something was going on.
“You don’t have that shotgun rigged up or something do you?” he asked nervously, ducking his head as he entered.
“Of course not. Though a bucket of glue and some feathers might be hilarious. Thanks for the idea.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Sandy just smiled at him.
What the hell was going on? Where was this niceness coming from? Palin wanted to ask her. He almost did, but she turned away swiftly and headed into the kitchen.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, standing at the kitchen table, keeping it between the two of them.
“No, not really.”
He started to press, but she kept speaking after a pause. Palin pressed his lips together, eager to encourage her newfound loquaciousness. He’d talked to her more today than quite possibly the past two days combined, and it seemed she wanted to talk more.
“You’ve already helped me accomplish more in two and a half days than I would have in a week and a half.” She shook her head. “I expected to double my efficiency, but with you I’m closer to tripling it, maybe even a tad more. Why, if I had a few more beefcakes like you, I could really make a go at this!”
Sandy fell silent, her face going red as she realized what she’d said.
Basking in the shade of her compliment, Palin let her suffer for a few long moments more. Then he took pity on her. “Is that why you’re in a good mood today? Because of the progress we’re making?”
He liked being able to say that. To state that they were doing something. Not him. Not her. But together. A singular unit. He wanted more, but first he was going to have to discover her secrets. What was it that kept her from trusting him more, from fearing the idea of him being in her home?
“Yeah.” There was a return of some of the old gruffness to her voice, and Palin wondered if she hadn’t been aware of the change in herself. Had he just screwed things up by bringing attention to it?
“I’m glad you’re letting me help.”
Sandy snorted, the sound echoing as she rifled through refrigerator at the same time. “Letting you help? That sounds like some revisionist history to me! We both know you forced your way into helping.” She pointedly did not address the reason he’d given her for his actions.
It was going to take a while before Sandy was ready to believe in dragons. That was fine; it just meant more time to spend with his mate. Palin still couldn’t quite bring himself to accept that. Sandy was a human after all, and he knew that humans and dragons didn’t mate. They couldn’t, despite what those silly “awakened” dragons tried to pretend. How could a human be worthy of a dragon like him? She must have the soul of a dragon, or dragon blood within her.
Perhaps she is the child of a dragon, but one who somehow never gained any of its powers. Palin knew it had to be something, and he was determined to find out. Never once did it occur to him that maybe, just maybe, Sandy was a normal human. To him there was always some explanation that led back to dragons. That’s the way it had to be.
“You could have said no at any time,” he pointed out. “I would have respected that.”
“Maybe. But you would have shown up to every farmers market and bothered me about it until I said yes.”
Palin grinned. “Maybe. I’ll never tell.”
“You just did.”
“Nonsense. You’re assuming something.”
Sandy paused in her food preparations just long enough to give him a look that said she was well aware he was full of shit. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight that streamed in through the numerous windows, though it lasted for but an instant before she turned back to the food in a hurry.
“Why don’t you have anyone helping you?” he asked, pulling back one of the chairs and easing his oversized “beefcake” frame into it. “You could easily find people in this day and age who would work for free now with the promise of money once the harvest comes in. You could—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. He fell silent, not so much because of her action, but because of the rather long and sharp-looking knife she was gripping in said hand.
“I don’t like people,” she said into the silence. “I don’t trust them.”
“So why are you trusting me?”
“I’m not.”
Palin scratched his head. “Yet you allowed me on your farm, and now you invited me into your house. That…kind of sounds like trust to me.”
“Well, it’s not. It’s manners, okay?”
“Okay.” That was a stretch, but he didn’t tell her that. Manners were acknowledging that he existed. Feeding him outside was plenty. Palin had had no expectations of being welcomed into her life. He knew he was going to need to be patient to figure out just what was going on. That was okay with him.
“I like it out here. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”
He nodded. “Lonely.”
“That’s why I have Champ.”
The big dog perked up when she said his name. Probably hoping he’d get a few table scraps. Palin knew better than that, however, having nearly had his head chewed off for giving the poor-looking pup—it had been an act, he was told—a few bits of his lunch the first day. Sandy had him on pure dog food, and she was strict about it. Apparently the tough mutt had a weak stomach.
“Come ‘ere, boy,” he muttered. Champ heaved himself to his feet and padded over to Palin, wagging his tail enthusiastically as he threw himself into Palin’s leg and slid to the ground. Leaning over, he scratched behind his ears, much to Champ’s obvious delight. “He is an amazing dog, I’ll give you that.”
“Why my crops?”
He pondered the question before answering. The truth wasn’t going to be accepted, not yet. Instead he would have to say something that would be both funny, truthful, and yet completely different than what he’d said. For many that would have been tough. For Palin, it was nothing. He had this in the bag.
“I guess there’s just something special about your, um, crops. Us beefcakes, we just can’t get enough of your, uh, veggies.”
Sandy bowed her head, moaning while she was busy trying not to die of shame, he was sure. That comment was going to haunt her for a while. But he wasn’t done yet.”
“Which brings me to my next question.”
“Go ahead,” she said nervously, chewing on some celery that was seemingly a part of whatever meal she was coming up with.
“Do you need me to plow your field later?”
The celery flew from her mouth, hit him in the forehead, and bounced to the floor. Champ lunged at it, snatching it up into his mouth where he chewed at it merrily.
The only sound in the stunned room was his tail as it went back and forth.
Thump. Thump. Thump.